


Down on the Corner

by caitthecursed



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Unresolved Sexual Tension, sweaty grimy sex appeal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:24:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caitthecursed/pseuds/caitthecursed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal visits Will on a weekend and gets an eyeful of his dirty, sweaty, sexy mechanic side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down on the Corner

**Author's Note:**

> Written in May 2013 for hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org

The air is as thick as greasy broth, pressing against Hannibal's skin until he can't tell whether the dampness is sweat or just humidity. This suit was a bad idea; he left the jacket in the car, and he finds himself rolling up his sleeves as he strides across the lawn.

No one comes to the front door, but it's unlocked. He can hear music coming from the back of the house, and he follows the sound to the open garage door. The radio is on at a deafening volume, playing some dreadful classic rock station. A pair of skinny, denim-clad legs and filthy bare feet poke out from under the bottom of the car.

Hannibal knocks on the door frame to announce his presence. "You should take pity on your animals, Will. Dogs have much more sensitive hearing than humans."

"If you're going to insult Creedence, get the hell out of my house." Will wriggles out from under the car and sits up, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of one grimy hand. There are specks of oil on his glasses, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Is something wrong? Do I need to get dressed?"

The fact that even Will Graham feels indecent in his current garb speaks to his dishevelment. The holes in his denims are large enough for bony knees to poke through, and his once-white shirt is smeared with grease stains. He smells like oil and fresh sweat, a heavy, masculine scent that excites Hannibal's primitive impulses. Will is rarely this comfortable in his presence.

"Not at all. I was merely passing through, and decided to bring you those files I promised rather than waiting until our next appointment."

Will nods. "Just stick them on top of the worktable somewhere. I'll look over them later." He stands up, wiping his filthy hands on his jeans. "Um, do you want something to drink? I don't have much in the way of food, but there's fresh iced tea in the fridge. I know it's hot as Satan's balls out."

Will wants him to stay, even though he is entrenched in a complicated project. The knowledge brings a smile to Hannibal's lips. "Iced tea sounds positively delectable. Thank you."

Ten minutes later, a glass of blissfully cold (if excessively sweet) tea in one hand, Hannibal leans against the table and watches Will dismember an old car engine. Will can talk and work at the same time, but he gets distracted easily, falling silent and chewing on his bottom lip as he examines the task at hand. He approaches the work with all the focus of a surgeon, his fingers nimble and strong. Hannibal imagines Will would touch flesh the way he touches metal, his grip sure and precise as he stimulated his partner. The prospect is thrilling, and Hannibal even finds himself enjoying the thought of the grease prints Will's hands would leave on his skin.

"You're awfully quiet," Will says, eyes darting up to where Hannibal is standing. "Didn't know you were interested in cars."

He grimaces as he twists something off, the tendons in his hand bulging as he grips the wrench. He is deceptively strong, his firm biceps and pectorals usually hidden under formless flannel shirts. Hannibal watches the muscles bunch under his shirt and swallows hard.

"I am interested in your interest, Will. It is fascinating to watch people so absorbed in their work." It's the truth, and if he begins to imagine Will's shirt spattered with blood as he tears those dexterous hands into a human chest cavity, Will doesn't need to know.

He eventually stands to show Hannibal to the door, stretching his cramped back. There is a smudge of oil on his temple, and Hannibal reaches out to wipe it away with his thumb. Will's skin is sweaty and flushed with heat, and his eyes flutter closed when he is touched. He laughs uncomfortably.

"I work in crime scenes, I should really pay more attention to my dirty hands."

Hannibal smiles. "Your dirty hands can do beautiful things."


End file.
